


she's the sweetest pet in the world

by exhaustedsinner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Come Inflation, Drugged Sex, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Gangbang, Mild Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedsinner/pseuds/exhaustedsinner
Summary: Angela wakes up as a prisoner of Talon.It's probably the drugs, but honestly she feels like it could all be a lot worse.
Relationships: Angela "Mercy" Ziegler/Other(s), Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Kudos: 26





	she's the sweetest pet in the world

When Angela wakes up, she can’t move.

She’s on her back, legs spread. Held down somehow, arms and legs both. She’s naked, she can tell - there’s a slight breeze that she can feel over her skin, stirring her hair that’s come loose from her ponytail. 

Fucking Talon. Always taking what they shouldn’t, be that tech or weapons or - people.

Oh, she realizes. I’m naked. They’re - going to rape me.

Something in her just doesn’t care. Maybe she’s drugged? It’s probable. Not enough to completely knock her out, just enough to make her not give a shit, or maybe lower her inhibitions. Not that they really needed lowered - it’s been a fucking while since she’s gotten laid and if they asked nicely she might have just said yes.

A door opens, and Angela stills.

“God, look at her. We get first crack, eh?” Some type of English accent.

“Well she’s just laid out for us, so why not?” French, this one. She hears zippers come down, cloth hit the floor. The sound of skin on skin. The sound of footsteps and then - 

Fingers. Touching the mound of her pubis, combing through the bit of blonde hair left there. Stroking over her folds that are held open by how her legs are spread. 

“God, this’ll be good.” The English one.

“No - no, wait.”

“What? I wanna fuck.”

“You want to chafe your cock to bits? Look at her. Passed out. Dry. Unless you’re hiding lube somewhere you need to get her ready.” God bless the French, Angela thinks blurrily. 

Fingers touch her again, purposeful this time. Stroke her and spread her. Wetness - a tongue lapping at the length of her folds. It swirls around the nub of her clit and she can’t help but shift her hips forward slightly.

“See?”

“How’s she taste?”

A deeper lick, into the core of her. “Delicious.” She feels the word muffled against her labia, buzzing against her hole. The mouth licks and laps and strokes at her, eventually concentrating on her now-aroused clit. Angela is surprised to find that she’s close to orgasm - everything is still fuzzy from the drugs, she didn’t know she could even get there. 

Long fingers slide inside her and stroke just right, and Angela can’t control how her breath comes short and she clenches around them, over and over again. The fingers slide out and she can feel, can  _ hear _ how wet she is. 

“Now it will be good.”

It’s been awhile since Angela got off with anything other than her fingers, so it’s a stretch when the cock enters her. She’s thankfully loose from orgasm, but her cunt still has to stretch to accommodate the not-insignificant girth. 

“Christ, she’s tight.”

“You gonna just talk about her or fuck her? Hurry up, I’ve been hard forever.”

Long strokes, that fill and empty her over and over. She can feel it when he pulls up tight, grinds into her. Pulses come deep into her. Somehow, Angela isn’t upset. She feels - warm. Full.

Full, but wanting more.

The second man is rougher. Larger. Fucks deep into her, his way slicked by the come of the man before. It doesn’t take long until he’s giving tiny thrusts and groaning as he fills her up. 

She listens to them banter, get dressed. Leave.

Then comes the others.

They show up, one or two or five at a time. They’re not always gentle but they don’t torture her. They just arrive, fuck her, come inside her. 

After a half dozen Angela can feel the semen dripping out of her, glazing her cunt. 

It’s not a bad feeling.

They keep coming, keep shoving their cocks deep inside her to touch her insides. Keep orgasming, filling her cunt up bit by bit. After a while she starts to feel - full. Not like she ate too much but...deeper.

High heels click, clearing the room. There’s a familiar smell, familiar perfume.

“Hello, darling.”

Of course it would be Moira. 

Cool fingers part Angela’s lips, press down on her tongue. Something drips into her mouth. Moira closes her jaw, strokes Angela’s throat until she swallows the few, bitter drops. “I’ve been perfecting this,” she murmurs. “The first dose makes you pliable in body, the second pliable in mind.” She touches Angela’s breast, and Angela would gasp if she had the ability - it feels like there’s a direct line from her nipple to her groin, and it’s on  _ fire _ . 

“A third? Helps you enjoy things.” Moira’s hand moves down and down until it reaches the mess of Angela’s cunt. She scrapes off some of the mess, so she can touch Angela’s puffy labia, her swollen clit. 

If Angela could moan, she would. As it is she breathes just a bit faster. Her nerves are turned up to a thousand percent, every miniscule movement Moira makes amplified like it’s covering her entire body. Just a few touches and Angela is coming, trembling under Moira’s hands.

“It’ll wear down to bearable levels in a few minutes, I just wanted you to feel it like this at least once,” Moira whispers in her ear, and just the slightest brush of the other woman’s lips is enough to make her orgasm again, cunt clenching against nothingness. There’s a soft dripping sound where come drips out of her onto the floor.

“Very nice. I’ll leave you to it, then.” The soft press of lips on Angela’s cheek, then the clacking of heels leaving.

When the next man slides into her, Angela trembles. By the time he’s fucking her hard, she’s tightening around him, coming and coming, her brain a haze of golden light from the drugs and the endorphins.

She doesn’t really notice the next half dozen, it’s all just a blur of orgasm after orgasm - both hers and theirs. As Moira said, it eventually slows down. Angela becomes more aware of her own body, of the world around her.

Angela knows she’s flushed - she always does blush down to her chest during sex - with her eyes closed and mouth wet and open. She can’t control any of that. Her cunt is almost grotesquely swollen - every time a man pulls out she can feel her puffy labia sliding together, trying to keep in the contents. Her clit is swollen too, sometimes rubbing against the men when they fuck her if it’s at the right angle. 

Sometimes they touch it, trying to get her to come. It doesn’t take much. 

Angela has never needed lube before, has always gotten more than wet enough. Now she’s wet with the come of dozens of men, filling her until her lower stomach swells, covering her lips until they’re a mess of pink and white. 

When a man pulls out now, it’s to a small flood of semen, coating his cock and her cunt and the floor. She wonders absently how much there is, volume-wise. Enough to distend her belly, enough that her toned muscles can’t keep it all inside.

The last few men she can barely feel, everything is just too slick, too wet. She’s not overly surprised at the sound of heels on the concrete floor.

“Well, look at this mess, then.” Moira’s nails stroke gently through Angela’s hair, and she tells herself it’s the drugs when it makes her cunt convulse around nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Moira’s hands move down over Angela’s breasts, down her ribcage to her lower belly. She  _ presses, _ one hand spread over the bulge and one moving down to slide inside Angela’s cunt and spread her open. “Let go, darling. It’s all right.”

Angela doesn’t do anything consciously, but she’s aware of a sound like water dripping quickly. She realizes it’s - come, it’s everything pushed into her, bred deep inside her body that Moira is helping to push out. The liquid is hot as it slides past her labia, spread by Moira’s narrow fingers, having warmed up deep inside of her. 

There are embarrassing sounds - wet, gloppy sounds as so many men exit her body. Moira just keeps massaging and pushing, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Once she deems Angela to be empty enough she has a wet cloth appear out of nowhere to gently wipe her down. For the first time in hours, Angela feels clean.

Her arms and legs are released from their restraints - not that they ever had to restrain her much - and Moira once more opens Angela’s mouth, drips something onto her tongue. 

By the time she’s done briskly rubbing the feeling back into Angela’s limbs, Angela can open her eyes. Moira is in a lab coat and narrow black pants, red hair combed back and her odd eyes as sharp as ever. She looks down to meet Angela’s bleary gaze, and smiles a fierce smile.

“There’s my girl. Feeling better?” She helps Angela sit up. Looking around, she can see she’s on a medical table in a concrete-floored, tile-walled room. There are large observation windows, and Angela is suddenly sure that Moira has been there the whole time. She makes the mistake of looking at the floor - there’s a wide, irregular circle of translucent yellowish-white there, and she knows that this was everything that was fucked into her. 

Moira wraps an arm around her, helps Angela gently off the table. She guides her through corridors, and there’s enough of the drugs still in her that Angela doesn’t care that she’s naked and looks well-fucked. 

“Let’s get you some sleep, dear. Tomorrow I’ll adjust the dose, it should be easier, yes?”

Angela just nods, leans against Moira, and keeps stumbling along. 


End file.
